


Quint's Angstober 2020

by QuintessenceA



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Everyone Needs A Hug, Hurt No Comfort, I suck at tagging
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:34:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26961487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuintessenceA/pseuds/QuintessenceA
Summary: 2020. It's been a hell of a year, hasn't it? At least there have been so many amazing and wonderful stories to keep our hopes up!We all want our characters to have happy, productive lives, finding love and living their best timelines. They don't deserve to suffer, right?But some of us love misery, and misery loves company. As we all know, things don't always turn out for the best. Sometimes, they turn out very badly.Let the hurt begin.
Relationships: Kustard, Spicyhoney, Spicykustard - Relationship
Comments: 12
Kudos: 19





	1. Index

Welcome to this year's Angstober! I'm a bit late to the party, but I have some angst to share. Enjoy!

By the way, if you like any of my ideas and want to expand on them, please feel free to do so! The more stories there are, the better!

Chapter 1- Argument  
Featuring unhappy SpicyHoney

Chapter 2- I Miss You  
Featuring Classic Sans/Papyrus

Chapter 3- Loneliness  
Featuring Classic Sans/Papyrus

Chapter 4- Disappointment  
Featuring Classic Sans

Chapter 5- Death  
Featuring SpicyKustard, minus Red 


	2. Argument - SpicyHoney

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stretch stays out all night. Edge worries, even if it's hard to tell sometimes.

"It's midnight," Edge called from the dining room as Stretch slowly opened the door. Oh, great. Like Stretch didn't know. "Where have you been?"

Stretch blinked a few times, completely focused on removing his key from the lock.

"Did you hear me?"

Ignoring him was only going to piss him off further. Didn't matter. On a scale of 1-to-10, Edge's irritation levels always hung around a strong 12 on a good day, and this was not a good day. Another point or two would hardly kill either of them.

A minute later and he almost gave up retrieving his key when it finally slipped free. He grunted in satisfaction, shutting the door behind him as he stepped inside. With heavy steps, he walked to the little table and dropped his key into the change dish. It clinked loudly against the few coins that remained.

By the time he was done with it all, Edge had appeared to join him in the hallway. Stretch set his teeth in a grimace, bracing himself for the inevitable. It wasn't like he could put Edge off forever. He could probably try, but it hardly seemed worth the effort when bitter experience had taught him that no one out matched Edge in a stubborness contest.

The silence drew long, until Stretch finally turned to face him directly. When he looked up to meet Edge's eyelights, the concern in them made him pause. He blinked again and it was gone. 

Projecting much? Stretch gave a wry smile at his own stupidity. Of course Edge didn't care, and hadn't in weeks. Months, maybe. There was only irritation in those sockets, and the same dry accusation that he saw everyday. Then Edge's eyelights dropped to Stretch's hand.

"Is that blood?"

"Not a big deal." Far too late, Stretch shoved his hands into his pockets. "Just a scratch."

"For you, nothing is just a scratch. Let me see," he demanded, reaching out his hand.

Stretch tried to retreat, but there was no where to go. "No," he said, backing into the wall. "Don't worry about it."

"I have the right to be worried!" Edge snapped, stepping closer. "You come home late, hurt, and-" he cut off, leaning in far too close. 

In that instant, Stretch had the insane desire to grab him and tell him everything. To beg for his forgiveness. To try and pretend, if only for a moment, that everything was like it used to be. When Edge was the one home late, not him.

~~~

_It was nearly 10 pm when Stretch finally heard the sound of Edge's boots thudding heavily up the stairs to their little apartment. Relief filled his Soul, and he jumped up to meet Edge as he walked through the door._

_"Rough day?" Stretch asked, giving Edge a peck on the cheekbone before taking his lunch box with a lopsided grin._

_"Yes," Edge agreed with a sigh. All efficient grace, he bent, removing his boots and setting them aside. "I cannot understand what those humans think they're going to accomplish by screaming their protests at me. My uniform says 'Security', not 'Politician'."_

_Stretch chuckled. "Probably because they know exactly how useless it is to argue with those fat cats. Go ahead an sit, I saved some soup for you." He set the lunch box down on the counter and opened the fridge, pulling out the last bowl of Blue's soup. It had actually been delicious, and Stretch appreciated Edge all over again for the miracle of actually teaching his brother to cook real food._

_But instead of taking a seat, Edge followed him into the kitchen._

_"Hey," Stretch asked over his shoulder, popping the bowl into the microwave. "Wanna know what's the difference between a politician and a flying pig?"_

_Wrapping an arm around Stretch's waist, Edge nuzzled his face into the side of Stretch's neck as he purred, "No, but I'm sure you're going to tell me anyway."_

_"The letter 'F'!" Stretch answered, and he couldn't help but laugh as Edge groaned theatrically into his spine._

_"Oh, that was terrible!" Edge griped, but he held on regardless. "You know I hate political jokes."_

_"Yeah, same here." Stretch shrugged, a smirk growing across his face. "Too many of 'em get elected!"_

_"That's it," Edge announced, pulling him tighter into his arms. "I'm revoking your speaking privileges."_

_"Really? Don't I get a vote-? Umph!" He was cut off as Edge twirled him around, pulling his skull forward into a kiss. When Edge finally released him, he felt dizzy, happily drowning in that look in Edge's eyes._

_He'd never felt so loved._

~~~

Edge pulled back, giving Stretch room to breath again, but that wasn't love in his narrowed eyes.

"Have you been DRINKING?" He demanded, disgust rising in his every word.

Stretch ducked his head, his shoulders pulling up to hide his face. "Huh, you know, I'm pretty sure I'm a grown monster able to make my own decisions about what I put into my own body." 

He fumbled in his pocket, pulling his wallet free after a short struggle. He flipped it open and held it up to his face, pretending to closely inspect his license through the little plastic window, even if he couldn't quite focus on it. 

"Whaddya know?" He exclaimed in mock surprise, holding it out for Edge to read. "I am. Says so right here. See?"

Edge glowered. "You're acting like a child."

Rolling his eyes in the most juvenile fashion he could manage Stretch sang out, "I am rubber, you are blah blah blah."

In response, Edge struck out, snatching the license out of Stretch's hand in a move fast enough to make a cobra proud.

"Hey-! What are you doing?! Give it back!"

"No," he said evenly, holding it up by his shoulder. "And the fact that I was even able to take it at all just proves to me how god-damned careless you're being right now."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Stretch hissed, reaching to grab it back but Edge simply put a hand on his chest and pushed. Stretch stumbled back, one foot catching on the other and he nearly fell, throwing his arms out to grab the wall.

"Wrong with ME?" Edge retorted, his voice cracking on the last word. "You're the one with the problem! Look at you! You're pathetic! Hardly able to stay upright on your own two feet!"

Scowling, Stretch tried to push past him, heading towards the couch. Edge moved aside cleanly, not even giving Stretch the satisfaction of shoulder checking him. 

"Thanks for the news flash," Stretch drolled acerbicly. "What EVER would I do without you here to constantly remind me how I'm screwing up?"

"I wouldn't have to if you'd just take care of yourself!" Edge pointed out unhelpfully, following behind him, wallet still clutched in his fist.

"Just leave me alone!" Stretch shouted back over his shoulder. "No wonder your brother doesn't want anything to do with you!"

He stopped, throwing a hand across his mouth, but it was too late. Edge stopped like he'd just walked into a wall, mouth ajar and eyelights small.

"Edge," Stretch began. "I didn't mean it."

At his name, Edge seemed to snap out of it, his jaw setting to a fierce line and his back straightening like he'd just been called to attention. He whirled on his heel and without another word started marching to the back room. As he passed the kitchen he tossed the wallet onto the counter. It was a bad shot, and slid just enough to reach the edge, teetering a moment before falling to the ground. The sound of leather against linoleum rang out like a slap. Edge didn't react, didn't even look back as he walked into the bedroom.

"Edge, wait-!"

"Goodnight, Stretch," he said, but there was no warmth in his voice. The door gently shut behind him, and somehow that was worse than if he'd just slammed it. There was a soft 'click' as the lock engaged.

Stretch put his face in his hands, sinking into the couch as he thought about all the mistakes he'd made in the past day. Month. Year. 

Well, he supposed that if it wasn't for screwing things up he wouldn't have any skills at all to speak of. At least he was sticking with his strengths.


	3. I Miss You - Classic Papyrus and Sans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus believed in the human, and now he's paying the price.
> 
> Inspired by a piece of art that I wrote a note about but can't find again Q_Q

"W-WELL, THAT'S NOT WHAT I EXPECTED..."

Far too late, Papyrus realized he'd made a terrible mistake. He'd made the wrong choices and he hadn't stopped the human. Though he tried his best, it wasn't enough. 

And now, Sans was alone. If the human didn't change…

"BUT... ST... STILL! I BELIEVE IN YOU! YOU CAN DO A LITTLE BETTER! EVEN IF YOU DON'T THINK SO!"

The human had to do better! They just HAD to!

"I... I PROMISE..."

It was too late for him. Papyrus had failed his brother.

_Sans… I'm sorry..._

…

For a while, there was nothing.

…?

But… Papyrus could hear something.

"…bro."

It was Sans's voice. Papyrus was tired, but his brother's voice called him.

"…you, bro."

Stars, he sounded so tired. Like on Papyrus's least favorite days, where even just existing seemed to be a challenge for his brother. It wasn't important how tired Papyrus was because no matter what, Papyrus promised he'd always be there. 

No matter what!

Papyrus was tired too, but Sans came first. He'd promised! He had to wake up! Opening his eyes seemed far more difficult than it had ever been before. The void sang mournfully around him, begging him to stay where it was safe. He fought against it all, the darkness, the tiredness in his soul, because he had to. He had to wake up. For Sans.

Papyrus opened his eyes, to find the world was blue. 

He was on the ground, the wrinkled back of Sans's jacket filling his vision. They were in Waterfall, the ghostly blue light of echo flowers shining all around them. In front of him, Sans was kneeling in a pool of water. His shoulders were hunched, pulled so closely together that Sans looked like he might just collapse in on himself. While Papyrus watched, a shudder ran through Sans, causing small ripples to expand out from the water's surface. 

"i miss you, bro," Sans said again. His breathing hitched and another tremor crossed his shoulders. 

Sans was crying.

Papyrus couldn't move. His feet wouldn't respond. He strained forward, trying to reach for his brother as he cried out, "i miss you, bro."

What? No! That wasn't what he'd wanted to say! Sans was hurting, he needed to know that he wasn't alone! The call repeated around him. 

"i miss you, bro." "i miss you, bro." "i miss you, bro."

The field of echo flowers called and whispered around them. The flowers were everywhere. Papyrus reached out again, telling his body to move, move! His arms felt weak as paper, and heavier than stone at the same time. But he wouldn't give up, not ever! Sans needed him!

Slowly his arms raised, but they weren't his arms. 

They were leaves. 

Papyrus gasped. "i miss you, bro," he repeated again. 

No, no, no! This was all wrong!

Horrified, Papyrus brought his hands- _leaves_ to his face. Instead of the hard, bony planes of his long skull, all he could feel was squishy softness. His face had a rounded edge, and he felt past it to touch large, silky… petals?

Pulling on the petal, he twisted his head to bring it to view. Light blue, glowing faintly with the natural luminescence of Waterfall. There had been a reason he couldn't feel his legs anymore. 

He no longer had any. He was an echo flower.

"i miss you, bro." "i miss you, bro." "i miss you, bro." 

The flowers continued to chant around him. In front of him, Sans hiccupped a breath. 

_SANS!_ He screamed in his mind, but all that came out was another, "i miss you, bro."

He could still try, flower or not! Stretching forward, Papyrus reached out with the leaves, straining to grab Sans's jacket, to touch him, to just get his attention!! Sans had to know that he wasn't alone! The Great Papyrus was right here! Just… just turn around!

But Papyrus couldn't touch him. Sans was only a few inches out of his reach, but rooted to the ground as he was it didn't matter. Sans might as well have been beyond the Barrier.

"i miss you, bro," Papyrus called. It was the only thing he could do, he realized as he let his leaf-arms droop.

"i m-miss you, bro," Sans echoed like a flower himself, adding a tremulous waver to the confession. 

The fabric of his big brother's jacket rustled as Sans dropped his skull into his hands, drawing his legs closer to his body. He looked so small.

"Why do they do it?" Sans whispered. There was an edge to the question, betraying a deep hatred that Papyrus would have never guessed from his easy going, affable big brother. 

"And _why_ ," he asked, his voice cracking on the word, "does it still hurt just as bad as the first time?"

The words were too quiet for the other flowers to pick up, but Papyrus heard them.

"Why?" Papyrus whispered back. "Why? Why?"

Sans didn't answer. Papyrus couldn't help him.

"i miss you, bro." "i miss you, bro." "i miss you, bro."

The flowers continued their call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The image was of Papyrus as an Echo flower, behind a Sad Sans. I'm going to keep looking, but if anyone knows the picture, or who drew it, please let me know so I can link it!


	4. Loneliness - Classic Papyrus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus has been making friends all across the Multiverse!
> 
> Too bad he has trouble keeping them.

It was better this way.

Papyrus repeated it to himself, again and again as he tried to focus on the contraption in front of him. Snow had gotten into the puzzle's gears and he absolutely had to get every last flake of it out before he could reactivate it. It was funny, it really was, how disabling the switch to disable the puzzle actually disabled the puzzle.

It was better this way. 

He missed Cherry. 

_The first Other Sans he'd ever met, he missed Cherry's raucous laughter that always rang out every time Papyrus, wittingly or unwittingly, fell victim to one of his pranks. He missed their light-hearted arguments, where Papyrus would insist that, "yes, murder is wrong", which was usually followed by the declaration that, "yes, it's murder even if you want their stuff", and of course his favorite "it's still murder and wrong even if you truly want their stuff more than they do"._

Once all the snow was cleared out, Papyrus pulled a handful of ram cards from his inventory. They were hard to find Underground, but not Irreplaceable. With help from a little bit of tape, he used them like shingles to protect the switch from future snow flurries. Satisfied, he pressed the switch. Seven of the eight puzzle plates activated.

~~_He'll never forget the accusation in his edgy counterpart's eyelights when he came by, alone, to tell the brothers that Underfell would no longer be participating in movie night. He refused to elaborate, deflecting until Papyrus finally physically reached out to stop him at the door. When Papyrus asked him why, Edge stared into his eye sockets for a long moment before saying, in a tone that clearly meant he believed Papyrus already knew, that Cherry had suffered an accident._ ~~

Inspecting the malfunctioning plate, Papyrus saw that snow had melted and refroze around the wires inside, stripping them from their connections. He smiled at that, now he had the perfect excuse to rewire the whole thing! One by one he dug up the LED pressure plates that made up the puzzle. Once he had them all he moved on to carefully lay out the new formation.

It was better this way.

He missed Blueberry. 

_He missed the way his friendliest of friends would declare, wrongly, the tacos were better than spaghetti. He missed the way they would boast to each other of the accomplishments of their respective Captains of the Guard, and the sometimes strange coincidences they would discover between Undyne and AltAlphys._

Now that the puzzle had been remade and the wires redone, he pulled out a power supply from his inventory. It was one of the most precious pieces of technology Underground, as difficult to use as it was to find. Only specialty devices even needed one, and to find one that both worked and fit the device you were trying to build was like winning several lotteries at once. In fact, it was completely useless to his puzzle. So he moved one of the balls of snow, dug a small hole, and put the power supply inside before covering the space once more.

~~_He'll never forget the frightened look in Blue's eyelights when Papyrus asked what had happened to his arm. The Spaghetti-Taco cookoff had just been canceled, but Blue and his brother had still come by for the movie. Halfway through, Blue had yawned and stretched, showing off a well concealed bandage he'd been hiding under his version of a battle body. Papyrus wouldn't have said anything had he known it would cause Blue to get up, grab his brother and flee their house with barely a rushed, "Havetogonicedinnerthankyoubye."_ ~~

He walked to the end of the puzzle and stepped on the reset switch, pleased to see all of the circles and triangles dutifully return to X's. But the button felt a little stiff, so he sat down and pulled it apart. Sure enough, some dirt had gotten into the mechanism. Pulling out a toothbrush, Papyrus got to work, promising himself that he wouldn't stop until the entire thing was shining like new.

It was better this way.

He missed Razzberry. 

_Though they'd only recently met, he already missed his newest friend's fierce passion and determination to protect his brother and his town. He missed his Malevolent Enchiladas, even if he hadn't actually gotten to try them yet, though Razz had assured him that they were so tempting that no human had ever managed to pass up a plate._

As he put the reset switch back together, he pulled the final piece of hardware from his inventory. It was called a quantum processor, and enabled the machine to access things that both were, and were not, simultaneously. If the other parts had been rare, this piece was one of a kind, created by someone that no longer existed. It had been surprisingly easy to pry from the motherboard.

~~_He'll never forget the joyful look in Razz's eyes when Papyrus declared they were friends. The way he smiled, his expression full of complicated, but not unhappy, feelings. It gave Papyrus the feeling that it was the first real, happy smile that Razz had given anyone in a long time._ ~~

Gently, Papyrus tucked the palm size piece of tech between the foot plate and the mechanism below. Papyrus didn't dare destroy it himself, but perhaps the next person to attempt his puzzle would be kind enough to do it for him. As he reassembled the button, he let out a sigh.

It was better this way.

Papyrus heard a sound. His brother's soft footfalls in the snow behind him.

_Sans was missing him._

Papyrus stood quickly, turning to face his brother, whom he loved dearly and definitely did not fear. He gave Sans a bright smile to show how happy he was working on his puzzles, out here in the woods where he certainly wasn't hiding. He carefully didn't think about the parts he'd just hidden, on the off chance Sans could read his mind.

~~_He'll never forget the look in his brother's eyes when Papyrus announced that Razz would be coming over to hang out. How for a moment, Sans had forgotten his smile long enough for Papyrus to see how tired he was. Not 'sleepy' tired. Not 'overworked' tired. Not even 'stressed and depressed' tired. No, that expression had clearly said that Sans was tired of having to do the same job over and over, only for Papyrus to keep screwing it up._ ~~

"Hey, there you are, Paps," Sans said, stopping at the edge of the puzzle. He looked so normal, the same as he always did. Slightly rumpled with a wide smile and calm white eyelights. There was absolutely no reason at all for Papyrus's marrow to run cold as Sans continued, "I've been looking everywhere for you."

It was better this way. At least for everyone else.


	5. Disappointment - Classic Sans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isn't it nice to have pleasant dreams?

Sans was dreaming.

The sun was shining in it, he could feel it. It felt as real as the ground against his back, the grass that tickled against his skull as he watched the clouds go by. It had rained earlier, and the rich smell of dirt and growing things permeated through everything. It was the smell of life. Papyrus was nearby, watching the sky with him. He said something and Sans lifted an arm to point at the sun. It was so warm.

"Dunno, Paps," he said, "but the future's looking bright."

Papyrus put his face in his hands, but not fast enough to hide his smile. On Sans's other side, he heard a woman's laughter. He knew her laugh, and it warmed him nearly as much as the sunlight did. Turning from his brother, he looked over to her-

Only to come face to face with his bedroom wall as he woke up.

As Sans stared at the sad, peeling drywall only one thought repeated through his mind.

It wasn't fair. 

The words hurt, stabbing into his Soul with every beat, like he'd just lost something near and dear to him. 

It wasn't fair. It wasn't FAIR!

It didn't make the slightest bit of sense, it was only a dream. He felt like screaming, though that was just as ridiculous, it wasn't even like he'd had a nightmare. It had actually been a really pleasant dream.

He closed his sockets again, willing himself back to sleep. It had been so nice. He wasn't ready to face the real world, especially in this mood. Couldn't he just enjoy his sleeping world for a little longer? What had it been about, again? The Surface? 

Already it was fading, the warmth of the sun replaced with Snowdin cold. Joyful, feminine laughter replaced with the silence of his room. He fought it, struggling to hold the details but they slipped away like water in his bare hands. He didn't want the smell of stale socks! Stars, he wanted to smell… dirt? No, that wasn't right. He wanted…? 

Papyrus, and… and laughing at something? It was fading quickly, like it always did. He couldn't remember anymore. It was gone.

Sans squeezed his sockets shut tighter at the unfairness of it all. Sometimes it felt like his dreams lasted years, only to vanish every morning. And somehow it felt like he'd dreamt that situation a thousand times, though at the same time he knew he'd really only had this particular dream a short while, a few weeks at most.

Maybe he should start a dream journal. On the other hand, this, too, seemed like something he'd thought of doing countless times.

It was the waking world that felt like a dream lately. Like every day didn't only feel the same, every day WAS the same. Get up, go to work, go to sleep. Wash, rinse, repeat. Again, and again, and again.

It was overlaid by the crushing feeling that nothing he did mattered. As if he could just lay here, in his bed, not moving, and yet not even that would have an effect on the world.

There was no reason to feel like this. Sans had things to do, people to see, jobs to work, a brother to lovingly annoy. All good reasons to get up out of bed and start his day. Papyrus alone was worth everything he had to give.

Yet, he couldn't do it.

Wrapping his arms around the lumpy ball his sheet had been worked into during the night, Sans hugged it to his chest, burying his face into the wrinkled mass. It wasn't fair. Deep in his Soul, somehow he just knew it wasn't fair.

If only he knew what **IT** was.


	6. Death - SpicyKustard (minus Red)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It only takes lowering your guard for a moment for everything to collapse. This shouldn't have happened, Red knows better.
> 
> Inspired by TDoompoet on Twitter-  
> https://mobile.twitter.com/TDoompoet/status/1212023750859853824
> 
> Featuring Nilchance's ATTL SpicyKustard boys, set in some amorphous time period around "heavy with mood", where Sans wears the collar around his wrist and is poking feelers into how he feels about Edge.
> 
> I hope you enjoy! ♡

It was kinda funny, really, how twitchy some of these humans got. This latest contact (Lenny? Larry? It didn't matter) was shaking so hard he'd actually dropped the memory card twice during the handoff. Now, he could barely reach out to take the payment.

"Any day, sunshine," Red huffed irritably, only to have the guy flinch back.

There wasn't any time for this guy's shit today. Weather forecast said one hell of a storm was moving in, and Red really didn't feel like being caught outside in it. Rolling his eyes, he just flipped the cash to the guy, who promptly fumbled the catch like his hands were full of butter. It fell with a soft noise into the newspaper scraps that filled the dingy little alley. Pathetic.

Where he was from, a sorry sack like this would have been long dead. It just goes to show, yet again, how different this world was. All hippies and sunbeams, even if the sun was hidden behind the clouds today.

Before kneeling to pick it up, something flashed behind the guy's eyes. Red had no word for it, the emotion he saw was too unstable to pin down and gone in an instant, going right back to nervous fear. Then, as if Red wasn't a big enough threat to keep his eyes on, the guy shakily knelt to the ground to grab the money. Red's instincts suddenly called out for him to put an attack between the guy's shoulder blades. He'd never get an easier shot.

That was an over-reaction, and he fought to rein it back in. He'd gone all these months without killing anyone, and this shaky legged weakling wasn't worth having to deal with the bitchfit of explaining to Sans why his Exp had gone up.

As if on cue, his phone began to ring.

"Get outta here, freak" Red ordered the man, who had regained the cash, while he pulled the phone from his pocket. Was it his imagination, or was that weird look back? But the man did nothing but cower in the grime before crawling away with his money. Placing the cell against his head, he said, "Heya pal, miss me already?"

"We gotta talk about Edge," Sans's voice came over the line, flat and grave.

Red immediately stiffened, his head whipping to the front of the alley. "Where are you? What's goin' on?"

"I realized," Sans began slowly. "That your brother looks too damn good in tight pants. I can't stop noticing when he's around, and it's making public events hard for me."

"You uppity little fucker," Red snarled lightly, almost impressed that he'd been fooled. On the other end of the line, Sans snickered. "I hope you know this means war. I ain't gonna ta- ACKKK!"

Red screamed out as something sharp pierced into his spine from behind. A shocking numbness, almost warm, spread across his legs and he dropped to the ground, unable to keep his feet under him.

"D-don't call m-me a F-FREAK!" Larry/Lenny shrieked. It was a mad, unhinged sound, more animal than human.

Fucking stupid. He'd taken his eyes off the guy. His legs weren't taking commands right now, so he pushed with his hands, rolling to put his back against the wall before the guy could make another move. It was hardly worth the effort, the guy was gone, tearing full tilt down the far side of the alley, perversely screaming apologies even as he ran. There was the glint of a red tinged knife in his hand.

Red tinged. Heh.

Fuck, he was gonna die, wasn't he?

"Red?" Sans called from the phone still clutched in his curled grip. "What's happening? Red!"

Struggling to sit, Red put the phone back to his head while he reached behind himself with his other hand to feel his spine. His fingers felt wet. He couldn't feel his legs at all. 

"S-sorry Sansy," he said quietly. "I fucked up."

"Whatever it is, I'm sure it'll be fine," Sans said, the words coming out a bit too quickly to actually be comforting. "Where are you right now?"

"Y'know," He tried, taking a deep breath. His chest still worked. Maybe he could hold out. "Y'know the lil' H Mart? 'M in the alley 'tween that and the car wash."

"All the H Marts are by car washes." It was painfully easy to hear Sans's carefree mask cracking. That was sloppy. He knows better. "Which one? Come on pal, help me help you."

"The best one, 'course," Red laughed. "With the giant monkey balloon."

The giant gorilla advertisment wasn't inflated right now, not with the storm approaching, but they'd both made enough "monkey business" and "going bananas" jokes that Sans knew the one.

"I'm coming, Red. Hang on." There was a jarring rhythm to Sans's voice, like he'd started running. "I have to call Edge, ok? Then I'll call you right back."

Sans hadn't even pulled out his usual, "it's an ape, not a monkey" card. Too bad. Since the last time, Red had been preparing a whole thing about how being a monkey was a state of mind, and-

"Red?"

"Sorry, sweetheart. Wandered a bit. Yeah, good idea. I'll, uh, talk to you soon. Bye." He clicked off the call. 

It was suddenly very, very quiet in the alley. 

Backup was coming, he only had to wait for it to arrive. Red tried to concentrate on his breathing. He'd read somewhere once that doing so was supposed to help if you'd been injured. Focus the mind or something. In, and out. It was probably bullshit. He did it again. In, and out.

His phone rang.

"'Lo?" He said, not even checking as he answered the call.

"Sans?" Asked a familiar voice, made strange by an unfamiliar note of fear.

Edge. 

"'Ey, Boss," Red said, a smile on his teeth. Leaning his head back against the wall, he looked up at the sky. Nothing but dingy grey clouds, dark and ominous. They reminded him of the Underground's ceiling. He'd expected to die down there, not up here. "'S good t'hear yer voice."

"We're coming, Sans, I promise."

"He had a knife. I let my guard down." Edge didn't ask, but Red answered anyway. He gave a mirthless chuckle. It came out more like a wheeze. "T'think, I thought it was you gettin' soft. 'Stead, it was me that forgot. Y'see, even in a world of kittens 'n rainbows the fuckin' kittens still have claws."

Closing his eyes, he took a shuddering breath. "Boss, I'm s-"

"Don't say it," Edge commanded harshly. "Whatever… whatever foolish thing you think you have to say can wait. You have to wait for us, Sans."

Red was almost glad he couldn't see his brother's face right now. He didn't want to know. 

"You got it." He looked up at the sky again. The clouds were getting darker, and there was a rustling sound in the distance. Rain was coming.

"Sans!" He heard his name. At some point he'd let his hand and the phone drop. He picked it up again.

"Yeah, 'm here," Red tried to reassure him. It might have even worked, if Edge was the type to believe in false hope. It was probably a shame or something that he wasn't. "S'ok, 'm jus' tired, Paps."

"Don't you dare fall asleep on me. Talk to me."

"Nah, 'm awake. 'Sides, I gotta… gotta wait fer Sansy." It was getting harder to string words together. "Made a deal. He promised he'll… jerk it f'me."

Red exhaled a laugh at the short but slightly disgusted sound his brother involuntarily made. 

"He promised he'd WHAT?"

"Yep." He tried to pop the 'p' to max out the word's annoyance effect, but it only made him cough. "Gonna hold 'im… to it..."

"Sans?" Edge's voice was getting further away. "Answer me, Sans!"

The phone hit the ground as it started to rain.

~`~`~

It had been three days. 

Edge was unraveling. Sans could see it. Everyone could see it. 

First, Sans stopped wearing Red's jacket. There were only so many times he could watch the mistaken hope die in Edge's eyes when he saw Sans in his peripheral, only to realize he's the wrong Sans.

The way Edge had called his name the first time he'd been mistaken haunted Sans's every waking moment.

Sans should have learned then. He never should have let it happen a second time. It had been worse. He didn't wear jackets at all anymore.

Now, he was sitting at their- no, at _Edge's_ table, a guest for dinner. It seemed backwards. He'd brought a casserole, courtesy of Papyrus and some amorphous tradition he didn't fully understand, but Edge insisted on making dinner himself.

Lasagna from scratch. 

Idly Sans rubbed at the collar around his wrist. There was no trace of Red in the magic, and not for the first time Sans regretted his decision in denying him that. His Soul ached constantly now, a tender wound in his chest, but he knew it was a thousand times worse for Edge.

Sans looked up as Edge walked to the table, holding three plates. He set the first one down, as Sans struggled with whether or not to point out the mistake. Indecision and silence turned out to be the same answer as Edge set the second place, only to stop and stare at the final plate in his hands.

There was a tension in his sockets, winching tighter by fractions the longer Sans stared.

"Edge…" Sans began, but he didn't get a chance to finish.

With a strangled sound, Edge turned and, like a major league pitcher with something to prove, he threw the third plate at the wall. It shattered on impact, raining down to the floor in a flurry of small jagged shapes.

Turning his back to Sans, Edge pressed the palms of his hands into his eye sockets. It wasn't a conscious decision to move closer, but Sans found himself up and across the room in an instant. He lifted a hand, wanting nothing more than to ease Edge's pain, but he stopped himself before actually making contact.

What could he do? He wasn't the one Edge wanted. Sans wasn't the one they both needed. But he was all Edge had left.

"How could he have been so STUPID?!" Edge hissed suddenly, and Sans couldn't stop himself from flinching back.

Sans looked away with a guilty pang. He didn't need to overreact like that. This was Edge, and Edge was hurting.

When Sans finally put his hand on Edge's back, a slight tremor ran across his bones that would have been a jump in anyone else. What was even more startling was that he didn't get reflexively stabbed for it.

He did, however, find himself grabbed by the wrist and held up against the wall faster than he could blink. When Edge pressed his teeth against Sans's, he froze completely, something in his brain short circuiting and crashing all at once. 

Edge's hand went to his throat, only for Edge to suddenly pull away, releasing Sans as he practically launched himself across the small kitchen. He gave Sans his back again, trying to surreptitiously wipe his face with a handkerchief.

Sans's mind felt as shattered as the ceramic still littering the floor. He was pretty sure his knees were shaking. Sans tried to think of something to say, he was just standing there, this wasn't how any of this was supposed to go, none of this was right, everything was-!

"I- I'm sorry. I have to go."

Edge's words were breathless and at least half an octave too high. Though Sans couldn't read his face from this angle, he heard how Edge's iron clad control was failing, cracking at the seams. 

"What?" Sans said eloquently, wishing he knew the right words to say. "No, dude, it's your house. I'll go."

But it was already too late, Edge was out the door before Sans could even finish his sentence. As he stared at the spot where Edge had been standing (before Sans had run him out of his own house), he noticed his face felt wet. He wiped a thumb against his cheekbone, only for it to come back crimson.

They weren't his tears. They were Edge's.

He didn't have a handkerchief to dry his face with, so he used the bottom of his tshirt. Any tears of his own he added were just as dutifully wiped away, leaving his shirt a damp mess of sickly purple magic. It didn't matter. It needed to be washed anyhow, something he knew Papyrus would be more than happy to do for him later.

Life was rarely fair. It wasn't a new revelation, and it was hardly a reassuring one. Sans had a brother to go home to. Edge, when he returned, would only find a cold dinner and broken dishware. It was probably cruel for Sans to hang around like he had been, a constant reminder of everything Edge no longer had. 

He started rubbing again at the collar around his wrist. It was supposed to mean something, but Sans wasn't sure that held true in a world without Red. Maybe he himself needed to find a way to cope that didn't involve dragging Edge over emotional broken glass every time they met each other's eyes. 

His thumb caught on the buckle and he held it there. Maybe it would be best if he just went home and didn't come back. 

Selfishly, he shoved that feeling down and walked over to grab the garbage can. He just wasn't strong enough to lose both Red and Edge in the same week.

Dragging the bin over, Sans knelt down and carefully started picking up the broken pieces. He may not be able to help Edge in any way that actually matters, but at least he can do this. Then he'll put the lasagna in the fridge. Edge probably had a real lid for it and everything, he was the type, so that Sans wouldn't have to waste half a roll of expensive plastic wrap. 

Sometimes life deals bad hands. Or maybe the deck was just rigged against them from the beginning. If it was, it was probably Red's deck. He never did play fair. 

Sans scrubbed at his eyes again. 

He just wished Red could have been a little better at cheating death.


End file.
